Timestamp: Vhalar 16, 720
Ezner ducked as a curving hook was thrown at the side of his head. He shuffled a step and a half backward as the large brute Bruno advanced forward. The sounds of the blood thirst, cheering crowd were muffled by the sound of Ezner's ragged breath. He brought his hands up to defend himself as the larger man stepped closer. The man threw another wide haymaker, and Ezner ducked beneath it, stepping forward. Ezner threw a stiff jab and a cross into the man's abdomen, but it felt like hitting a stone wall. He twisted to his right before the man's other hand could grab him.
But Ezner wasn't paying attention to his footwork in his exhaustion, and tripped over the large man's other foot. He stumbled, though he didn't fall. Over the deafening sounds of his lungs, he heard the rap-rap of the sticks on stone marking another bit passing. As the smaller man stumbled toward the edge of the Pit, the large man was already rushing toward him. Ezner knew he just needed two more bits. Survive in the ring for two more minutes.
It was a tall order.
The big man's hand caught Ezner's flailing wrist in its iron grip, and jerked him backwards. Ezner felt his shoulder burn as he was twisted around and thrown to the dirt ground on the opposite side. He laid there, counting his breaths, rapid, far too rapid. His vision was blurring a bit. He saw the shadow in the corner of his eye and he pushed off the ground, rolling away as the large foot came down. The crowds were booing, but they knew that sometimes survival matches didn't have as much fighting as they had hoped.
Ezner's roll ended early and he managed to get to his feet just in time to see the big man tackling toward him. The man's shoulder collided with his mid section, expelling what little air he had left within him. Ezner held onto the man as they both crashed to the ground, the massive weight landing on Ezner's ribs. Ezner felt his arm above the man's shoulder, luck or instinct? He'd never know.
He worked to tighten down the arm, feeling the resistance of the big man's neck muscles. The man's chin dug into Ezner's forearm, preventing him from getting a good choke hold in place. Meanwhile, the big man's other hand rained heavy blows into Ezner's exposed stomach. Each one battered him, but Ezner held on. It was really all he could do. Ezner snaked his free hand beneath the attacking arm's shoulder, and worked to leverage it upwards just a bit.
Rap-rap.
One bit to go. The big man's arm was momentary stymied, giving Ezner a chance to suck in some deep breaths. The bigger man couldn't reach Ezner with his other arm, so he switched tactics. The man got his knees beneath him, and used that to leverage his torso upward, with Ezner still wrapped around him. The man then slammed Ezner down on the ground, crushing his back against the compacted dirt. But he still held on, knowing he just needed to hold out a bit longer. The man lifted him again, and once more slammed him down, and Ezner felt something crack. But he managed to tighten his grip just a bit more, slipping past the man's chin as he was raised in the air.
Once more he was sent crashing down, his head bouncing off the dirt this time, and he lost his grip on the big man. He kicked at the man's groin, but missed, catching him in the thigh with his heel. Then the first fist came, catching Ezner cold in the jaw. Ezner's arms came up to defend his head as brick after brick shaped fist rained down on him. Several slipped his guard, and even those that didn't battered his arms against his face. The weight difference was too much.
Ezner couldn't take many more blows like this, his vision was swimming, and his lungs burning hot. He remembered something that happened recently, something he himself had done. It happened the night he had met Elisabeth. A fist rained down toward him, a deadly straight to flatten his nose and end the fight. Ezner instead of guarding, dropped his arms, and rolled his head just a bit to the side. The fist flew by and thudded hard against the dirt, and the crowd could hear the crack of something breaking and the big man howling.
And in that momentary distraction, Ezner scrambled away and out of reach. And while he was there, feet away from his adversary, chest heaving as he was on all fours, it happened.
Rap-rap.
The fight ended. Half the crowd went nuts in surprise, the other half walked away in disgust. But Leopold Jettix walked forward, a bright smile on his face, lifting the battered Ezner to his feet. "Well that was one hell of a show, mate. I'll give you that. Happy to have taken the risk on you though."
Ezner didn't hear those words though, his ears were ringing and nausea was building within him. His ribs burned as though he were being branded, his left eye was swollen shut, both lips large and bleeding. "I'll go talk to May in the morning, straighten out this contract nonsense. I didn't know she had friends such as you, as straight laced as she is." The man pat Ezner on the back and took his leave, depositing Ezner on a crate at the back of the crowd in the Pit.
Ezner had no one here, he was alone, and wasn't sure where exactly he was. But he could feel the pain overwhelming his mind, his senses. He needed help. He managed to get himself to standing and nearly vomited in doing so. He needed to keep going. His feet carried him away from the Pit, deeper into the Dust Quarter. He was not familiar with the landscape here, but he just walked. Each person he bumped into sent his ribs ablaze, his mind turning white. Several times he fell to a knee, not sure how he'd ever get back up.
But each time he did.
He didn't know how long he'd walked in the labyrinthine Dust Quarter, but he collapsed on the steps of a door he'd never entered. A door marked Order of Adunih: Dust Quarter Clinic. And just before his world turned back, he was sure he saw light as the door opened, and he uttered a word... "Elisab..." before his world went black.
